


The Lighthouse and the Ship

by laissemoidanser



Category: True Detective
Genre: AU, Fairy Tale Elements, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laissemoidanser/pseuds/laissemoidanser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about the sea, loneliness and evil spirits</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lighthouse and the Ship

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired greatly by the song "A Light So Dim" by The Black Heart Procession
> 
> _"If you be the lighthouse in the storm  
>  I'll be the ship with a thousand dead souls"_  
> 

Bare coastline rocks were getting hot under the late autumn sun. The wind from the boundless waste of sea was constantly coming down on them, uprushing into the air and hurrying farther on, raking up the grass on a vast open field, spreading sea drops around and filling the soft heat with freshness. Two children were running across the field - a boy and a girl. The wind rustled gently towards them, playing with their curly hair. The boy reached the rocky coastline first. He stood still, gazing with his big eyes full of excitement at the lighthouse rising high above the line of the sea. To him, it seemed to be even larger and even more mysterious than it was in reality. He eagerly waited for the girl to catch up with him, smiled at her, pointing to the lighthouse. “Here it is, little Lisey, look!” he said proudly. “None like this in your city”.

“It’s so huge and dark”, Lisey was staring in awe at the deep cracks in the walls, blackened by time.

“Are you scared?”

“Not at all, stupid”.

“Mom says an evil spirit lives there, so no one goes in, except for the old keeper. He’s the only one who knows how to soothe it”.

“For real?”

“Take my word. But one day, I’ll climb up there. I'm not afraid of evil spirits”.

“I don’t think so. Stop boasting, Jack”.

“But I will do it! Did you know that the keeper himself, in fact, had long been dead?”

“How’s that?”

“Far as I know, it’s his ghost living in the lighthouse. And sometimes at night he goes into the city, hides under your bed and...”

“Stop it! Stop it!” Lisey cried, covering her eyes with her hands.

“What, are you scared now?”

Lisey said nothing, just punched him on the shoulder painfully. But the next instant both of them ran away, screaming – a silhouette of a man appeared from the lighthouse tower. It was only the old keeper, but nothing could stop those children, scared out of their minds by the ghost fairytales. From his high point the keeper watched for a long time as they ran across the field and he was smiling. It was hard to tell the features of his face, hidden under the beard; only clear blue eyes with humorous sparks dancing in them. Then he turned his gaze to the line of the sea horizon, breathed in the salty air and, still smiling, disappeared back into the lighthouse.

Entire legends were made up about this strange keeper, and not only by children. No one could remember when he first came to the city; no one knew his real name. City folk claimed that once he used to be a traveler, sailor, soldier. That he had lost something or someone along his tough challenging way, and now this lighthouse is all that he had. He worked hard and was the very best in what he did, so no one ever complained, but people were afraid to even walk by this coastline, believing that some supernatural powers really abode there and guarded the coast, pointing the way for the ships lost in storm.

It might be even possible, that the old keeper himself did not remember his name. His whole life was an estimated daily routine, divided by the hands of the clock. Whether it was summer or winter, cold or heat - he always remained on his watch. And if he did not work – for most part he was sitting in the old chair by the window, drinking hot coffee. And in moments like this, his blue eyes could be suddenly filled with uncertain sorrow; his gaze would become vacant as he watched the steam rising from the mug in his rough calloused hands yellowed by time.

The engine of the lighthouse was talking to him in a whisper of wheels and generators and could understand him like no one else. The only company in the whole world of silence. When a ship showed up at the horizon, the keeper would always come to life, he would go out to the light tower, if possible, and peer into the distance. As if waiting for someone. Nothing could deprive him of this. This naive and therefore strong faith in horizon. Then he would return to his cozy little room, sit down in the chair and look at the old photo of a huge ship somewhere at a port. The meaning of this picture was known deeply to him only and he valued and cherished it beyond anything else. 

Except maybe for the watch he kept in a secret locker, which sometimes he opened to take it out. He would gaze at it for a long time, as if he’d never seen it before, would listen to its ticking, and count seconds, then carefully wipe it and wind it up. Day after day, month after month, year after year, until the lighthouse and the old keeper became a legend – about the evil spirit coming once a year from the sea to collect souls in the coastal cities. Only the keeper knew how to soothe him. That’s why the city was flourishing. Mothers often scared their children with these stories, so they wouldn’t run away to play at the dangerous rocky coast line.

Winter nights like that one were particularly severe. At the bottom of the lighthouse the storm was unfolding - waves crashed hard against the rocks, and the wind howled along the thick stone walls. The old man shivered in his chair wrapped in a wool blanket, listening to the howling of the nautiphone. He wished it howled louder, in a storm like this it might not be heard ... his lighthouse might not be seen. That day, he was not himself, took out the watch and checked it several times already. He could not sit still, his soul was shuddering together with the lighthouse, so he impatiently rose to his feet, whispering something under his breath. He checked all counter readings, listened to the "breathing" of the lighthouse before looking out of the window. And then he saw a light at the horizon.

Forgetting about the cold, he hurried to the light tower, in the eye of the merciless waves and in the teeth of the icy wind, grabbing at the cold rusty hand railings, squinting against the storm. Droplets of sea water on his beard were turning into ice at once. "I'll be damned", he whispered, his mouth gasped open in surprise. His heart was pounding in his chest, echoing the crashing noise of waves smashing against the black sharp rocks.

He watched a huge phantom of a ship, just like the one on his picture enter the harbor, and rapidly approach the coast. The ship was so huge that if it was real, it wouldn’t be able to come at such close quarters, and would inevitably suffer a crash. With a deafening creak it froze by the lighthouse, so close, its nose almost rested on the light tower, threatening to saw it in half. The ship swayed, banked to the side. A rope ladder was hanging from its starboard.

The keeper hesitated at the very edge, but doubt didn’t torment him for too long. Hardly had his hand touched the ladder, when the warmth spread through his veins, filling his body with life, and suddenly he was an old man no longer. His hair was shining with light blonde, wind tousling it gently; his beard was gone, revealing his handsome face. His now strong hands pulled him up, up the ladder, leaving the heaviness of old age down below. Above, he already spotted a familiar tall figure, waiting for him, offering him a hand when he climbed up to the board side. He grabbed it, grinning as he was pulled onto the deck with a great force. He rose to his feet already as a young man, the way he remembered himself.

But his attention was focused on his guest only - whose face was almost invisible in the shadows of the night, though our keeper knew his every feature all too well. A pair of familiar blue eyes, gently shining in the darkness, was more than enough to recognize him.

“Marty “,  a mysterious shadow called him.

“Rust”, answered the keeper, and there was no more doubt.

“Long time no see”, said Rust.

“Long time no see”, echoed Marty.

Without saying one more word, Rust started walking slowly and soundlessly along the deck to the very snout of the ship, Marty followed him in silence. The roar of the storm didn’t reach here, nor did the icy wind, as if it was calm and peaceful below the ship. But Marty heard the groans from the lower deck, heard someone's voices and a quiet mysterious song.

He walked up to Rust, who stood now at the farthest edge, looking at the beam of light coming from the lighthouse, his own eyes radiating a subtle blue ghostly glow. Marty was mesmerized by him, just like when he first saw him long time ago. So for a while he watched, knowing that he was allowed to. Then he walked closer and leaned on the railing next to him looking in the same direction although his attention never left Rust.

“How many of ’em you’ve got?”  he asked, listening to the distant song of a lost soul. Rust’s hands gripped the railing tighter, he sighed, shrugged his shoulders.

“Thousands”, his voice was raspy, tired. He slowly turned his glowing gaze to Marty. “But most of all I want yours”.

Marty covered Rust’s hand with his palm, marveling at how real and warm his flesh appeared to be. He squeezed his hand in his, and leaned forward, Rust leaning closer to him as well, so that their faces were almost touching.

“Will you wait for just another year?” he asked quietly.

“I've been waiting all my life, and keep waiting for you in death, what else do you want?”

“I just wanted to stay with Her a while longer”, Marty pointed toward the lighthouse. “If not for Her, we would have never seen each other again. But without me, She will be forgotten. Just one more year. Please”.

Rust looked at him disapprovingly, but his gaze softened when Marty pulled the watch out of his pocket. “Look. I’ve kept it just for you. You lost it back then, remember? But I found it and repaired it after you ...- is it enough to convince you?”

And Rust smiled, accepting the gift. The beam of light was cut off for a moment when he leaned in to Marty, planting a kiss, gentle as a warm whisper of breeze, on the corner of his mouth. Later on Marty was standing at the light tower for a long while, watching his dim light disappear beyond the horizon, feeling the sweet promise on his lips with the tips of his cold fingers. As long as you believe in me, Marty, as long as you show me the way, I will make sure to come back for you.

And it was the old man again, who was sitting in his old shabby chair, wrapped in a blanket, with a mug of coffee in his old numb hands. The lighthouse accosted him about his secret, but he only shook his head. "Time, time - I know," he whispered, smiling at the old cracked walls while recalling the gentle glow of the blue eyes - "We still have it."


End file.
